A Bit Late
by ChaoticGleek
Summary: A not-so-funny thing happened on the way to Regionals. What started with a flat tire leaves 2 Glee members stranded  and cell phoneless  in the middle of nowhere...and 3 at the hands of gun-weilding carjackers.
1. Chapter 1 Kurt

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of them.

Note: My first Glee fic. Yay, something finally broke my writers' block! I'm still working on getting their voices "right" so I really appreciate any suggestions and may make a few small changes (nothing that should drastically affect the story) here and there to improve this as I go...Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy.

**A Bit Late**

We are going to be so late.

I can already hear Miss Rachel Berry's inevitable hissy fit as she accuses me of single-handedly costing us Regionals because I was inconsiderate enough to have a flat tire. Like it's my fault that we had to drive past the scene of an accident that left copious amounts of debris sprinkled across the highway? I cannot believe that the highway patrol has not yet done anything about cleaning up the mess. Clearly the accident didn't just happen since no one is hanging around! Where are your priorities, people?

I thought that we were lucky to get through the bits of metal and glass unhindered, but here we are less than two miles later and I'm at the side of the road with my front tire completely blown.

And me without my coveralls.

"Aw hell," Mercedes bitches as she kicks at the tire angrily. Maybe that will scare it into coming back to life.

Sadly, no.

"It's okay," I assure her. "I have a jack."

She raises an eyebrow.

"And a spare," I add, ignoring her skepticism. I've changed so many tires that I can practically do it in my sleep.

"Everything okay?" Tina asks, glancing from me to Artie, who has managed to sleep through everything thus far, and then back to me. I can almost hear her silently calculating just how we're going to get Artie back to town if the car _isn't_ okay.

"It's just a flat," I assure her as I take off my Etro jacket and fold it carefully before placing it on the seat. Should I take off the shirt? I'm not wearing a T, and it's not like I'm not an expert at getting grime and grease out of pretty much any kind of fabric, but it'll be several hours before I can tend to it…

"A flat what?" Brittany asks and I can't help but smile at her honest confusion. Unfortunately, Santana is not here to interpret, so I inform her about our flat tire. I leave Tina to explain why that is a bad thing.

"I'm not getting any reception out here," Mercedes groans as she flips her phone shut.

Tina's brow furrows as she checks hers, then Artie's, with the same result.

"It's _okay_," I repeat as I unbutton my dress shirt-it's just not worth the risk, getting it ruined. Besides, it would be quite a faux pas to wear a soiled Etro in public.

I bite back a sigh as I see Tina chew her lip in response to my assurances. I try not to cringe as I consider the damage she's doing to that lip. I have some balm and gloss that might help repair the damage.

But what's with all the skepticism? Does no one remember Hummel Tire & Lube? _No one?_

After I've safely secured my shirt and jacket (and retrieved the package of moist towelettes from my bag, ready for a quick cleanup!) I head around back of the Navigator to retrieve the jack and spare, trying to ignore the way Mercedes' other eyebrow has gone up. I feel my cheeks heating up as her eyes flick down at my bared chest momentarily.

"I didn't want to ruin my shirt," I explain, though it should be obvious.

"You going to ruin your pants?" she queries.

I suspect she's teasing me, but it's not like I haven't already thought about it! Of all the days to have forgotten to bring along an extra garment bag! At least then I would've had something that I could kneel on. Oh, the sacrifices one must make sometimes.

"Bow chicka bow wow!" Mercedes sings out, confirming my theory that she is, indeed, mocking me.

I don't dignify her with a response but get right to work. Or would get right to work if I hadn't forgotten to grab the tire iron. I lean in Brittany's open window and call to Tina. "Can you get me the tire iron? It's right behind your seat."

"I thought he said it was already flat. Why does he need an iron?" I hear Brittany quietly asking as Tina gets out of the Navigator, bringing me the lug wrench. I take it from her and get to work on loosening the lug nuts. I'll have to soak my hands extra long tonight to make sure calluses don't develop.

I can't help but wince as I have to get down to secure the jack in place. Maybe I should've taken the pants off after all. They may not be my best pair, but it would be embarrassing if they got too messed up. And I am wearing boxers…but they're silk and just aren't meant to take such abuse. Alas, the pants must stay on. As soon as the jack is properly lined up, I get up and dust myself off hoping the damage isn't too severe.

I wonder if there'll be some place I can shower when we get to the auditorium. Not that there'll be time to wash up properly before the competition, I lament as I begin quickly cranking the jack, lifting the car.

"Stay still until I tell you to move," I command Brittany. I know I should get everyone out of the car first, but there's just not time to deal with getting Artie situated in his chair only to have to get him back in a few minutes later. Besides, judging from the grin on her face, it's apparent that Brittany is enjoying the ride.

I change out the tire, secure the bolts and lower the car in what has to be my personal record time. I can't resist flashing Mercedes and Tina a smug grin as I finish up. Only a little dirty and not a single broken nail. Ha.

"Need some help with that?" an unfamiliar voice calls out as I heft the flattened tire and prepare to throw it into the back. I almost drop the tire as I whirl around to see two men hiking toward us.

What were they doing way out here? And on foot? There's nothing around for miles. Except that accident a couple miles back, I realize. But then wouldn't they have stayed with the car? Or at the very least they would've gotten the rest of the wreckage out of the road so that innocent Navigators don't have to suffer tire damage!

I glance toward the woods, trying to tell if there was maybe a house tucked back a little ways or something. But I see no signs of one. Which leaves either they're from the wreck or they just happen to be out here hiking. But the men are not dressed for hiking, I realize quickly, noting the grubby sandals one of the men is wearing. Something isn't right about this.

"No thanks, I've got it!" I inform them brightly, doing my best to not sound suspicious, though the little laugh I unintentionally let out probably gives me away. I glance at Mercedes and Tina, who are both watching the approaching men warily. "Just a little flat, but it's all taken care of," I add.

The sandal man laughs. "Damn. You been sucking on helium, kid?" I scowl, but before I can retort his friend gives him a not-so-subtle jab, all the while continuing to watch me with a big phony grin spreading grotesquely across his face. I feel slightly ill as they both seem to be looking us all over, sizing us up. I can feel the hair at the back of my neck stand up as Smiley's focus settles back on me.

"Don't suppose you all could give us a lift into town," he asks as he stops just a couple feet away. Even if they didn't both creep me out a bit, or if his friend hadn't already ticked me off a little bit by teasing me about my voice, Smiley makes the decision easy for me when he spits onto the ground beside me.

Gross.

"I'm sorry…We just don't have time. We're a bit late already," I apologize hastily as I hoist the tire into the back and quickly shut the door. "We could call someone for you," I suggest as I move back to the front of the Navigator, trying to act casual, even though I can feel in my gut that these guys aren't going to just take no for an answer. I grab a moist towelette and begin washing my hands, sparing a glance at Tina and Mercedes.

Tina's eyes widen and her jaw drops slightly at the same time that Mercedes gasps, raising her hands slightly. That can't be good.

I gulp as I look back toward the men.

I swear that my heart stops. I can feel the blood draining from my face and my legs suddenly feel weak. There's a part of me that has always feared being in this position, part that's _*known*_ that someday it would happen to me. I always figured, though, that it would be because some Neanderthal just couldn't accept that I refuse to change just to fit into his version of who I should be. But this…this was just me being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And just me having a gun pointed directly into my face.

After a few moments my heart starts beating again. I lick my lips as my brain races to come up with the right reaction.

"You can take it," I offer them. "Keys are in the ignition," I continue, the words coming to me slowly. My eyes dart to Sandals, who grins back at me as he takes a step closer. I step back. "Take it and go." There's something wrong with that plan, I realize almost immediately and I can feel the panic rising as the defect springs to mind. The words start coming faster as I try to remedy it. "Just let us get my friends out, first. Artie...my friend. He's got a wheelchair; it'll just take a minute for us to get it out of the back and...Brittany, you need to get out."

"We just don't have time. We're a little bit late already," Smiley throws my words back at me. He shoves me out of his way as he heads for the driver's seat. "We'll just have to take him with us for a while."

Oh, God. No. No, that can't happen. I grab the man's arm and try to stop him. "No. Just let us get him out."

"Let go of me, kid," he demands, and I try not to notice the way he's pointing the gun at me again.

"Please. We'll be quick. W-we don't even need the chair," I can hear the desperation in my voice as I beg him. Mercedes and I can carry him back to town if we have to.

I realize that Brittany hasn't gotten out yet. Why isn't she getting out?

The man actually laughs, ignoring my pleas as he shoves me away, hard enough to send me sprawling to the ground. As I scramble to get back up I hear Mercedes and Tina echoing my pleas, but the men are both already getting into the Navigator.

I can't help but gasp with dismay as Smiley tosses my Etro ensemble out of the car. But I can't dwell on that because Artie and Brittany are still inside. I grab for Brittany's door, but it's locked from the inside. "Brittany," I cry out. "Open the door!"

The car starts moving.

For a brief moment I consider letting them go. That would be the smart thing for me to do, after all. I'm safe. Mercedes and Tina are safe. Brittany probably doesn't even know she's in danger. And it's not like she would've done anything to save me if our positions were reversed…well, okay that's only because she wouldn't realize I was in danger. And it's not like I didn't try to stop the carjackers from taking off with Brittany and Artie. I tried. What was I supposed to do? They had a gun.

Staying safe would be the smart thing. But I can't do it. I have to do something, _anything_ to stop these creeps from taking off with my friends. Take my car, fine-well, not fine (my baby!), really, but in the great scheme of things, it's the least of my worries.

I can't help but think about how at any moment Artie will wake up and find himself trapped in this nightmare. He'll be helpless if they leave him stranded without his chair. I don't even want to think about what they'll do if they *don't* leave him stranded somewhere. And then there's Brittany…she's always fairly helpless. I'd hate to think what these guys might do to her when she pushes them past their patience limit. And I have little doubt that she will. Why didn't she get out when she had a chance? Not that I want Artie to be alone,but…

I'm not sure where the idea even comes from, but as I run alongside the Navigator I yell out as loud as I can, "'Cedes, call 888-8-ONSTAR! They can disable the car!" Or they could if I actually had OnStar service. I didn't even have any idea if that was the right number to call. Fortunately that doesn't matter because Smiley's buying my bluff. The Navigator stops moving.

Even though there is no cell (or OnStar) service, Mercedes follows my lead and flips her phone open to dial the number.

I know I am shaking as the door is flung open and Smiley steps back out, swearing as he grabs my arm roughly. I can't breathe as I feel his gun pressing against my forehead. I hope it doesn't leave a mark.

"Toss the phone over here!" Smiley demands. "Yours, too," he motions to Tina. My fear that he'll figure out there's no service dies as he simply stomps on the phones, rendering them useless.

I lick my lips and do my best to ignore the pounding in my chest and the cold metal pressed against my skin. "Go ahead and take my car," I keep my voice as level as I can while I stare into his eyes, letting him know how serious I am. "Let my friends out, or we will call as soon as we get to town. They'll disable the car in a matter of minutes." Of course if that were true, these guys would probably just kill Artie and Brit if it happened. So there's the tragic flaw in my plan. Damn not having time to think things through! I silently pray that they'll buy my bluff anyway.

And it seems that at least one of them is buying; I can hear Sandals swearing and I cringe as he slams his fist against the dashboard.

But Smiley holds steady. "What's to stop you from calling anyway? You seriously trying to tell me that you'll just let me take off with your Mommy and Daddy's car?"

My eyes narrow at the man's assumption, but I force myself not to snap at him. "Fine. Y-you can take me," the words spill out before I have a chance to fully consider. There's a slight quiver in my voice betraying the fear I've been trying so hard to hide, but I keep my chin up, letting him know I might be scared but I'm not backing down.

"And your friends still make the call," he retorts. "Maybe we should just kill you all now."

"We're already late," I cringe inwardly as my voice squeaks a little bit. "If we don't call in soon and m-my dad'll have the service turn on the tracker. You won't get far." Smiley grits his teeth; I can see the anger in his eyes as he tightens his grip on my arm. "T-take me and I'll call him. Once we're away from my friends," I bargain.

"Kurt, no!" I hear Mercedes hiss, but I ignore her. She starts to step closer, but stops as the gun swings toward her. My heart leaps into my throat and I try not to imagine the gun going off and killing my best friend. Oops. Too late for not thinking that.

"I'm the only one with the code to stop them from disabling the car if someone calls OnStar," I spit out quickly, sweetening the deal and drawing Smiley's attention back to me.

"We just need a few hours," Smiley seems to be talking to himself. And then he makes his decision and I find myself being hauled into the Navigator and roughly shoved into the driver's seat. "We let your friends go when we're safe. Do _anything_ to call attention to us before that and the deal's off."

Sandals moves into the back seat beside Brittany as Smiley sits beside me, his gun still pointing menacingly in my direction.

My hands are shaking as I fumble to restart the SUV.

I can hear Mercedes and Tina calling out after us as we start moving, leaving them behind.

Sorry, Miss Berry. It appears that we are going to be a bit late…


	2. Chapter 2 Finn

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. They're highly appreciated. I did go back and add a bit to the first chapter, though nothing that would necessarily make it essential to go back and re-read; it's just some stuff to enhance it, and hopefully improve a bit with getting Kurt into character.

I know that this is listed as a Kurt/Artie fic and Artie's barely been in it yet (darn that sleepy kid!), and this chapter's from Finn's POV but I assure you Artie plays a major part in the rest of the story, and most of the meat of the story will focus on Kurt, Artie, and Brittany's plight (with occasional chapters showing what's happening with the other characters…)

Sorry for such a long author's note, swear I'll try to keep 'em short from here on out.

Thanks for reading! -Z

* * *

Chapter Two (Finn)

"I told Mr. Schue that we should have rented the bus again," Rachel reminds us. Again. "We could have spent travel time rehearsing," she repeats her reasoning. Again. "Now it looks like we aren't even going to have time to rehearse at all."

I smile uncomfortably and shrug as I try to come up with the right thing to say to calm her down. Fortunately, Schue comes to my aide.

"We didn't raise enough money for a handicap bus and we all agreed that it wouldn't be fair for Artie to have to come separately," he reminds her. "Besides, we've had plenty of rehearsals. You all have your parts down perfectly," he assures. He checks his watch and frowns slightly. "Kurt said he needed to stop for gas?" he asks, looking to me.

I nod. "They should only be a few minutes behind us."

"They are already almost 45 minutes behind us," Rachel informs us, looking annoyed. "It does not take that long to fill a car-even an eco-unfriendly monster such as his."

"They probably stopped for burgers," Puck figures.

Rachel's eyes widen and I swear I can see flames starting to flicker in the black part. What are those called? Pupas? Something like that. My brow furrows as I try to remember the right word for them. I can see Rachel's mouth moving but tune her out as I concentrate on figuring out the answer. Pupits? No, that's not right either…

"I'm sure they're on their way, Rachel," I realize that Schue is calming Rachel down and wonder briefly what I've missed.

"I could call him," I suggest. Everyone turns to stare at me as if I've grown an extra eye in the middle of my forehead or something.

"That's a great idea, Finn," Schue agrees, beaming proudly at me.

I grin and nod as I pull out my phone and hit speed dial 4 for Kurt. At the same time I see Santana pulling out her phone. Probably to call Brittany. And Quinn's probably calling 'Cedes. A year after Quinn moved out and they're still like sisters. Kind of like Kurt and me. Except that we're still living together. And we're like brothers. Not sisters.

Unfortunately I only get a message telling me that Kurt's phone is either off or out of range.

"Brittany's phone's off," Santana announces.

"Kurt's, too," I add as I hang it up.

"I don't think they'd all have their phones turned off," Quinn rejects that idea. "They must be in a dead zone."

Dead zone. That sounds kind of cool. Unless there are like zombies or something. Then not cool. Somehow I don't see Kurt, Tina, Brittany, or Artie being all that effective fighting zombies; especially since none of them are carrying. Mercedes could probably kick some zombie ass, though…

"They should be here by now," Quinn says what we've all been thinking. "It's not like they'd purposely be this late." Her eyes flick to Rachel. "They wouldn't want to face the wrath of Lady Gleediva."

Rachel flushes slightly, yet still looks pretty pleased by the name Quinn has given her. I'm not entirely sure it was supposed to be a compliment, but whatever.

Schue checks his watch again. "They're going to start in a few minutes. Maybe I should start driving back toward Lima in case they're hav-"

"You can't leave!" Rachel cut him off, her eyes wide with panic. "If you go, we won't be allowed to perform because we won't have our director present."

"We won't be able to perform anyway," Puck points out, smirking at the look of horror spreading across Rachel's face. "We need 12 or we're disqualified."

"I could go," Mike Chang suggests. "I don't have any solos," he adds, talking directly to Rachel, "so you can rehearse without me."

Schue hesitates for a few moments before nodding and holding out the key to our rental van. "Be sure to keep your phone on and call us when you find them. If you don't find them in half an hour, I want you to call in anyway," he instructs.

No sooner is Mike out the door when Rachel begins pacing again. "What if they don't make it back? We only have 6 if Mike's not back."

"I think Jacob's here," Puck suggests, though I'm certain he's doing it just to needle Rachel. I glare at him.

To my surprise, though, Rachel looks excited by that announcement. "Yes! Jacob's here. He interviewed me for the paper. So that's 7. Is anyone else from school here?"

"Is anyone else from school lame enough to spend their weekend here?" Puck shoots back.

"Sam said he might come," I speak up before Rachel can get too upset by Puck's teasing. "And Mercedes' boyfriend…whatshisname…?"

"You should see if you can find them," Rachel directs me. "That'll be 9. We just need 3 more. 2 because Mike will make it back. Who could we call to-"

"We don't need to call anyone else," Schue cuts her off firmly. "I'm sure that Kurt and the others will be here shortly." He doesn't really sound all that confident, though. In fact he looks pretty worried.

Which, really, he's right to look worried. It really isn't like Kurt to blow something like this off. I know how excited he is about finally getting a major solo in one of our numbers. I've heard him practice it over and over for weeks. And I know the others are really excited about our chances of winning this year, too. If they're not here in time for us to perform, I think we have bigger things to worry about than whether we'll be disqualified. Something has to be pretty wrong for them not to show.

"You think they're okay?" I blurt out the question before I can think to stop myself.

"I'm sure they're fine," Schue quickly replies, but I don't think he's telling the truth.

I don't think Rachel thinks he is, either, because she suddenly looks really pale. And she stops talking about finding last minute replacements. For a few minutes we all sit in silence.

"I…I didn't mean anything by it," Rachel suddenly says quietly. "I mean…I didn't think…" I reach over and take her hand, giving her a reassuring smile. "They're going to be okay."

"Probably just broke down somewhere," Matt agrees. "Mike'll find them."

Probably just broke down. But what if they were like in an accident or something? Maybe I should call Burt…except I don't want to worry him if nothing's wrong. I should have gone with Mike.

Rachel squeezes my hand and I realize that I've been theorizing that accident thing aloud. Santana and Quinn are both looking at me with horrified looks on their faces. They both pull out their phones and start dialing again. Even Puck looks a little bit worried now.

Schue waits just a couple minutes more before he's on his feet. "I'm going to go find Emma and see if we can borrow her car…"

My "All the Single Ladies" ringtone starts playing. I scramble to answer my cell. "Kurt!"

Everyone looks up, most grinning or laughing with relief.

"H-hi, Dad!" he greets me.

Dad? "No, Dude! It's Finn!"

"We're going to be a bit late getting home," he tells me.

"What? You're going home? We've got-"

"They can't go home!" Rachel blurts out, only hearing my side of the conversation. "Tell him we've still got time. They can still make it here before it's our turn!"

"I just didn't want you and Mom to _worry_," Kurt continues as though I'm not talking. Huh? Since when does he call my mom, 'Mom'? "I've got Brit and Artie with me, but Mercedes and Tina decided to walk home."

"What the hell? Why would they walk…where are you? Are you even on your way here?"

He's not listening to me, though. "Dad! Listen to me. _Listen. _I know I'm in trouble. It couldn't be avoided. There was this accident-"

I knew it! "Accident? Are you okay?"

"No."

I blink. "You're not?"

"No…Dad. I'm not hurt. It's just we had a tire blow out and I didn't know how to fix it…"

"Dude, you know how to fix tires. And why are you calling me 'Dad'? Did you hit your head? Mike's out looking for you guys, but maybe we should like call an ambulance?" By now everyone has crowded around me. Schue looks a little bit like a fish with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open just a little bit.

"It's okay, Dad. Mercedes said she'd call her dad to send one of his guys out to fix it for me."

"Isn't her dad a dentist? Why didn't you call your dad?"

"I didn't want you to worry, Dad. I thought we'd be back by now or I would've called sooner. I know I'm in trouble. Maybe you could call Mr. Schu-um. Sorry, Dad. I have to go…my cell battery is low."

"Kurt? Where are you?"

"I love you, too, Dad. Tell Mom and Finn I'll be home as soon as I can. I'll take care of Artie and Brittany and then I'll be home."

"Yeah…o-okay, Kurt."

My brow furrowed as I hung up the phone. Even though he told me he wasn't hurt, he was just acting really weird. What was up with calling me Dad?

I become aware that everyone is watching me intently.

"Well?" Schue prompts.

"I…I think they were in an accident. Kurt must've hit his head or something because he thought I was his dad. And he said that Mercedes and Tina decided to walk home…"

Puck stares at me, looking slightly exasperated. "You sure he wasn't trying to tell you something?" He glances at Santana then at Quinn, then back at me. Not sure what that was about.

I blink. "Like what?"

Puck sighs. "I don't know…like…something he didn't want to say in front of the others."

I shake my head. "Why wouldn't he though. I mean, if they had a tire blow out wouldn't Artie and Brittany already know about it?"

Schue's frown deepens as he looks at Puck for a few moments before turning to me. "Puck may be right, Finn. Why don't you tell us exactly what Kurt said."

Not sure how it'll help, but whatever.

I sit down and start repeating the conversation to the others.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews and constructive crit is always welcomed and HIGHLY appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3 Tina

Chapter Three (Tina)

This can't be happening.

It's just a nightmare. In a minute I'll wake up. Artie will laugh at me for drooling on his shoulder. Kurt will probably refer to me as Sleeping Beauty for the rest of the trip. That will probably make Brittany ask me about having fairy godmothers. Mercedes will…will…

I can't breathe.

This isn't a nightmare. Well, it _is_, but not the sleeping kind. I know I'm awake, though my body doesn't seem to realize that. I can only watch as Mercedes runs after the SUV, even though it's rapidly gaining distance on her. I should be running after it, too, but I can't. I'm frozen. I can't…

This can't be happening.

It's just all wrong. It doesn't make any sense. We're out in the middle of nowhere, Ohio. This isn't the sort of place where something like this happens. People don't just appear out of nowhere with guns and kidnap people. Especially not people like Artie and Kurt. Brittany…maybe, though I feel terrible for even thinking that. Brittany's sweet, but she's the sort that would probably still naively follow a stranger offering candy or wanting to show her a litter of kittens.

I should be doing something.

But I can't move.

_I can't breathe._

I just stand there and watch as the Navigator gets smaller and smaller in the distance before it disappears completely around a curve in the road.

This is really happening.

And all I'm doing is standing here feeling completely useless. I should be doing _something_.

But I don't. Not until Mercedes slips on the gravel and tumbles to the ground.

Now, that's something I can understand, something I can deal with. I run toward her, my body going from shutdown into hyper drive as I quickly close the distance between us.

"Are you okay?" I call out as I reach her, but she doesn't answer. She just stays where she fell. Now she's the one who's frozen, stuck on her hands and knees.

I kneel down beside her, placing a hand on her back.

Slowly her face turns toward mine. Her eyes are wide and her mouth hangs open. She seems to be having trouble breathing.

"W-we h-have to…" I start stuttering, though I've not done so in over a year. "W-we h-have t-t-t…" I can't stop stuttering. And I don't really know what it is that we have to do. We have to get help, but we're miles away from it and our cells are both destroyed. We can't call for help. Not for Artie and the others, not even for ourselves.

Though I never manage to get the words out, my voice seems to break Mercedes back out of her stupor and she nods, her mouth snapping shut as she begins gathering herself to stand up. I offer her my hand and help her to her feet. Once she's up, I stoop to brush the gravel from her legs, then help her pick the pebbles from the scrapes on her hands.

This is something I can deal with.

Mercedes licks her lips and looks into the distance as though she's still trying to spot the long-gone Navigator. Her breath hitches, then she turns to look back to where we'd stopped to change the flat. Her breath comes out in a huff and a small smile appears at the corners of her lips. She begins walking back to where the horror began.

Maybe she thinks she can fix one of the phones. Or…even if she can't fix it enough to make a call, maybe it'll still work for a GPS, so someone can find us.

Except that they don't even know to be looking for us.

And she's not heading to the phones. I watch as she picks up Kurt's discarded clothing. She brushes off the jacket and shirt. "He'll kill us if we let anything happen to these," she explains, her smile brightening. I have to wonder if she's maybe lost it a little bit.

Like I'm one to talk.

As quick as it appeared, Mercedes' smile completely crumples and her breath hitches again. She closes her eyes and I see the first tears I've ever seen her cry. Just a few drops roll silently down her cheek.

And I'm jealous of her.

I can sometimes cry at the drop of a hat, but for some reason I can't do it right now. How awful is that? My boyfriend has just been kidnapped and I can't cry for him. I'm a terrible girlfriend. I should have been the one trying to stop those guys from taking Artie. But I didn't do a thing. I let Kurt fight alone. I stood back while Kurt practically forced those men to kidnap him just so Artie wouldn't be alone…or well, with Brittany. But I didn't do anything.

And I'm still doing nothing.

I can't even _feel_ anything, really. Just…numbness. I might never see my friends again and I can't feel anything but empty. I should be screaming. Or at least crying. I care about Artie more than anyone in my life other than my parents. And Kurt and Brittany are my friends. So why am I feeling nothing?

Mercedes sucks in her breath and holds it for a moment before she begins rapidly blinking, stopping her tears. "This isn't helping. We have to get to town," she announces. She looks back the way we came, then into the distance where the SUV disappeared. "How far back was the last town?"

I try to remember, but I wasn't really paying attention.

"T-there was a-a-a wreck. A c-couple miles b-back." I can't believe I'm stuttering. "M-maybe s-someo-one will b-b-be there."

Mercedes hesitates for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. It looked recent. Someone probably'll have to come back to haul that junk out of the road and tow the car." She swipes at her eyes. "Probably too far out of Lima for it to be Mr. Hummel." Her voice is weak as she says the name. Her eyes close again and I can see her jaw tightening. "Damn," she mutters a few moments later.

"Damn, stupid fool white boy," she curses, and I don't have to ask who she's referring to. Her breath hitches again. "Goes and does something so…stupid. I _should_ just leave this shit here," she growls, thrusting Kurt's clothes back to the ground, and then kicking at them. "Why did he have to go and do that? He was safe. He could have-"

"Artie."

Mercedes stops kicking and glares at me, then her expression softens.

"He wouldn't leave Artie. O-or B-brittany," I add. Kurt is small, but he is anything but meek. And he isn't the type to stand back and let anyone hurt his friends, even if it means putting himself in the line of fire. I never would've thought he'd literally put himself in front of a gun, but I suppose I should've known better. He's protected me more than once from bullies twice his size. Given, they haven't been weilding guns, but still. This is just more of the same. "He'll w-watch out f-f-for them."

Mercedes lets out a half sob. Then nods. "I know," she says quietly. "But…who'll watch out for him?"

I want to assure her that Artie will watch out for Kurt. And I know that he will as much as he can. But I can't help but think that even though Artie is strong and more than capable of handling just about anything life throws at him…I can't help but think how incredibly disadvantaged he is in this situation. If they're given an opportunity to escape, he can't run. If they decide to restrain his arms he won't even be able to move. There's no way that Artie, Kurt or Brittany will be any real physical match against their captors-especially not with the gun factored in. Even if two of them, or even all three try to challenge them, I don't see them fairing well. The reality of the situation is…unless the men decide to just let them go…I can't think about that. They'll be fine. They have to be.

When I don't reply, Mercedes' shoulders slump.

I should have lied to her.

We'd both know it was a lie, but maybe it would've made us feel better.

I fold my arms across my stomach, as though that will help settle the sudden queasiness.

Mercedes looks down at the bundle of clothing on the ground and utters a tiny, "oh," as she stoops to grab the garments up and starts dusting them off again. Like me, she seems only to be able to handle the simple problems.

This is stupid. We have to get moving. It's up to us to get help; no one else even has a clue that there's a problem.

"We should go," I prod Mercedes firmly.

She takes another deep breath, then nods and we start walking, slowly at first, back toward the wreckage we'd passed before.

As soon as we're moving, without a word, we both quicken our pace until we're running. I've never been and never will be an athlete, and neither is Mercedes, yet neither of us falters as we race back toward the abandoned car.

I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but sometime before we reached the scene of the accident my hand found its way into Mercedes'. As the car comes into sight we both slow down, without a word.

I can feel her grip on my hand tightening as we approach the wrecked vehicle.

Unfortunately there's no sign of any police or tow truck, or anyone else.

Mercedes stops walking and I feel her hand squeezing mine even tighter.

I give her hand a quick squeeze before letting go of it. I swallow hard as a feeling of foreboding washes over me. Still I take another cautious step forward.

"Tina…" Mercedes calls my name in a low voice. "I think we need to get out of here…now."

I glance over my shoulder at her and can see the fear in her eyes.

"This is probably _their_ car," she reasons.

I nod, agreeing. Still, it's unlikely that they'd come back for it. Not when they have Kurt's Navigator. Clearly this car won't be running any time soon. But maybe they've left behind something that could help us. It's too much to hope for a cell phone or radio or anything, but just maybe there'll be something that can help us find out where they're going; where they're taking our friends. And then we can…

I freeze as I realize that there _is_ someone in the car.

There's a man slumped over in the back seat.

"H-hello?" I call out, but the man doesn't respond. "W-we n-need help." I feel stupid as soon as those words are out because clearly he needs help, too, or he wouldn't still be in the car. I take another step. "D-do you have a phone? W-we c-can…" I get a better look at the man. At his cold blue eyes…the unnatural paleness of his skin…the hole in his forehead where there shouldn't be a hole. The red and grey splatter all over the…

It takes a moment for me to realize that the high pitched scream I hear is coming from my own lips. I stumble backward, tripping over my own feet in my haste to back away.

"Tina!" Mercedes leaps forward, crouching down next to where I've fallen. She hasn't seen him, and for her sake I hope she doesn't look. Because I know I'll never get that image out of my head.

"H-he's dead." I inform her as my teeth start to chatter uncontrollably. "He's d-d-dead…"

Those men must've killed him.

I wrap my arms across my chest as my whole body begins to shiver.

If those men killed him…

I don't want to think about this. I don't want to. I don't…

I can't breathe!

Artie. Kurt. Brittany…

I'm never going to see them again. These men have already killed someone. What are the chances that they're just going to let my friends go?

I want to feel numb again.

I don't want to feel anymore.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed, alerted, favorited, or even just continued read up to this point. This chapter wasn't really in my 'plan' but the characters for that scene weren't behaving! Even while there was weaponry involved. Tsk. But then I tried writing this just to get my writing flow moving again and it sort of took on a life of its own. Hope it's good and that I don't wake up in the morning and re-read this and realize I *really* shouldn't post anything I write during bouts of insomnia…Erm.. Yeah. Anyhoo, as always comments and constructive crit are always appreciated! Let me know what you think! (Or don't, I'll appreciate you reading anyway ;) )

And the next chapter will return to the plight of those in the Navigator. Dun dun dun…


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